The Matrix Reprocessed
by au revoir sim1
Summary: There's something go wrong within the Matrix. Programs are going missing without a trace, and people are dying with no explanation. Unless a ragtag group of humans (and programs) can find out what's going on and stop it, millions of humans and programs are doomed to die.


_**A/N: So, this is a new story set in the Matrix world after the events of the film trilogy. The main characters are going to be original creations of mine, but there will definitely be appearances from some of your favorite old timers ;) Anyway, I hope you enjoy! **_

_**-Au revoir sim1**_

"Happy Birthday Gemma!

I jump in surprise as I have just opened the door to reveal my overenthusiastic mother holding a small cupcake as well as a small silver gift bag.

"Mom! Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack." Even as I berate her I smile. I can never truly be angry with my mother. When you are all someone has left it rather changes your perspective.

My mother grins. "Now I know you're going out tonight, but I thought we could sit down for a bit and just talk. I got you a present."

"Bribing me to spend time with you then?"

"I've resorted to whatever's necessary." She pats the empty spot next to her on the faded loveseat. "Come sit."

I walk over after dropping my schoolbags and books in the corner, and eagerly accept the silver bag she's procured. I'm surprised my mother got me a present at all. She tries her best to be the best she can be, but with putting food on the table and paying the rent a daily struggle, there's almost never any money left over for luxuries such as gifts.

I've barely opened the bag before I'm shoving the small red box back inside, and then stuffing the bag back into my mother's lap.

"Send it back."

Her face falls. "You don't like it?"

I sigh. "Mom. You know I love it. But we can't afford this. You're already working yourself to the bone and we can barely pay the rent. Send it back and use the money for something more useful. Please. That would be the best birthday gift. Really."

Slowly she gets up off the couch to set the gift on the table next to us. "That's a very mature attitude-"

"I should be mature, I am 18."

"but you shouldn't have to make a decision like that! If I want to get my daughter a _Cartier_ bracelet for her 18th birthday then I should be able to! And you should be able to accept it and just be happy. I feel-" she falters, biting her lip and frowning. "I feel terrible for putting you through this for most of your life. It's just that after Daddy died-"

"Mom. Please. It's alright. It's fine, I'm already going out with Ophie tonight; that's certainly enough of a present." I smile at her brightly to show her I'm alright. "It's really okay. Don't stress."

But she's already stressing, sniffling into the back of her hand. It's the subject of my father. No one can mention him without her immediate spiral into waterworks.

I reach over and rub her back gently. "Listen. I have to get changed now, but I promise when I get home from hanging out with Ophie we'll sit down, break out the Swiss Miss and watch old re-runs of Arrested Development. Kay?"

She nods, then with a watery smile pushes me off the couch and in the direction of my bedroom. "Go on, you. Have a nice time. I'll see you when you get home birthday girl."

"Hey Gem. Gem!"

I turn around, the rush of movement sending my head into a frenzy of pounding. I've drunk too much tonight, I know, but what with the stress from our money situation and the fact that I'm officially an adult, I've given myself allowances.

Ophie's brown eyes are twinkling mischievously. "That guy over there is totally checking you out. He's been watching you dance for the past 20 minutes! Gemmy's gonna get some!"

"Which guy?"

"Look – just over there at that table. No the one of the left sitting by himself."

I stare in the direction that she's pointing. Sure enough, there at a table toward the edges of the club is a man who appears to be staring right back at the two of us.

"Ew!"

Ophelia turns back to me, looking rather put out. "What do you mean? He's totally yummy."

I scoff. "Yeah, if you can look past the weird sunglasses at night and creepy suit in a club, _and _the fact that he's like in his 30's going to a club customarily frequented by teenagers and college students. He's probably a total rapist or something."

Ophie glares at me. "I _thought_ you might be happy to be hearing that you were getting some male attention. It's all I can hear about lately, you complaining about your lack of attention from men."

"Yes, but I didn't mean I wanted some old man staring at me as I dance in a club. Is he still staring?"

She glances back. "Yep. _Right at you. _You should go over and talk to him." That part is punctuated by a small smile. "You could set up a date … Finally go out with a guy and have some fun for a change."

I glare at her. "You're unbelievable. You know what? I will go over and talk to him. But not to set up a date."

Ophie starts to protest too late, as I'm already storming across the dance floor, winding my way through sweaty gyrating bodies and couples displaying way too much PDA. The mystery sunglass man, as I've dubbed him, keeps eye contact with me the entire way, until I've reached his little table in the corner.

"Why are you staring at me?" I'm direct and straight to the point. No need to exchange pleasantries with someone I don't particularly want to talk to.

The man smiles, but it's forced, mechanical. "I was wondering how long it would take you to come over."

"You creep! You've just been watching me waiting for me to come over? Listen up buddy-"

"There are things we should discuss, Ms. Harris."

I stop short in my tirade. "Excuse me?"

"I had said that there are things we should dis-"

"I know what you said! I'm just wondering how the hell you know my name you Sleaze? Have you been stalking me?" I suddenly take in the full outfit, of a suit and tie and sunglasses. "Are you a cop? Are you an agent? Do you work for the CIA? I promise, I really haven't been drinking-"

His nostrils flare dangerously. "This conversation is … menial at best. If you could allow me to explain-"

I don't give him the chance. "You know what? No, I don't really need anything explained thank you. I'm going back to my dancing and I'm going to _try_ to enjoy my night."

He starts to get up out of his seat. "Ms. Harris, please do not make this any more difficult than it needs to be. If you would just come with me-"

"No! I'm not coming with you! You're probably a rapist!" My alcohol addled mind makes it hard for me to think clearly, and this man has instantly become the most dangerous thing in my eyes. My only thoughts are of fleeing.

His nostrils flare again, this time more pronouncedly. "I hadn't wanted to do this."

"Do what? What are you going to do? Get your hands off of me!"

But it's too late, because suddenly my world is going black, and I feel myself fade away.

_**A/N: I felt like this chapter was rather awkward while I was writing it out, so this would probably be a nice place for a beta to come in, but for now I must write this solo. However, I'd love to hear what you think, so I could make some changes to the writing style and improve **____** Also I can't decide to do the next chapter from Gemma or the mysterious unnamed agent's point of view, so if you have a preference let me know! Anyway this has gotten way too long, so I'm out!**_

_**-Au revoir sim1**_


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